Goodbye, John Watson
by LissaJoan
Summary: Mycroft is worried, for the sake of John, and decides Sherlock needs to come back. But does Sherlock arrive in time to save his friend?


_Sherlock please contact me immediately.-MH_

_What is it Mycroft?-SH_

_It's John-MH_

__When Sherlock received the text, he began to tremble slightly, worried about his best friend. He replied back, nervously.

_What about John?-SH_

_He's losing it. He started chasing after criminals. He's in a bad situation.-MH_

_So help him out of it!-SH_

_I tried. He left and won't talk anymore. -MH_

_Dammit. Fine, I'm coming. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid-SH_

__Mycroft didn't bother sending a reply, and he looked out of the window of his vehicle. He was outside a family owned bistro, where John sat near the window, gazing out at strangers passing. He knew Sherlock would find something, but he had a gut feeling that it may not be enough. Sherlock wouldn't show his face until he was absolutely sure John was safe.

* * *

Sherlock began his search instantly, he'd kept up with a lot of what John did, and how he helped with a few cases- Lestrade trying to keep him strong. Sherlock appreciated Lestrade for that. Upon finding out that John had gotten into a case involving a killer, who liked to kill anyone that put him behind bars, Sherlock sighed. He grabbed his coat, put his scarf on, and left his temporary home.

With the hours flying by, Mycroft was getting worried. John hadn't moved from the bistro, but his face hardened. It couldn't mean anything good.

_Sherlock, forget research. Get here and get him out.-MH_

_I'd be going blind. I don't do that. He'll be fine. He always is.-SH_

_You aren't understanding. He's gone cold. This isn't the John Watson you know. He's waiting for death. He wants to die-MH_

_No, he doesn't. Why would he?-SH_

_Because you aren't there for him. He hardly talks and Lestrade hasn't put him on any cases lately because he's noticing John isn't right at the moment.-MH_

_Watch him. I'm going to do a bit more digging then I'll come.-SH_

__Sherlock kept searching on what John had gotten into. He didn't think it was possible for anything bad happen, Mycroft was watching him. After about two hours, Sherlock couldn't find anything directly against John, and decided it was time to go to Mycroft for a chat. It was about nine at night. Almost at his destination, after flagging down a cab, his phone buzzed.

_You better get here! John's got a gun.-MH_

__Sherlock inhaled deeply, and yelled to the driver to move quickly. They pulled up next to Mycroft's vehicle and Mycroft pointed to the empty lot nearby. Sherlock looked in that direction, when he heard a gunshot. He bolted over, a fleeing figure went in the other direction, but his attention was toward one figure and his heart broke. He dived onto the ground, taking John's head and gently laying it on his lap.

"John…" Sherlock mumbled, eyes beginning to blur.

"I'll be with you soon Sherlock." John whispered. Sherlock knew he must seem a ghost to John. He wept as his best friend took his last breath. John's eyes were lifeless, as the stars seemed to echo in them, and his lips held a faint smile that Sherlock knew was for him.

"I-I love you John.." Sherlock whispered as he rocked back and forth. He gently kissed John's forehead, and wiped his cheeks of tears. He couldn't bring himself to get up. He looked at his friend and realized he was a little bit lucky to have had even that minute. John had been shot in the heart. It was the end of the story of John Watson. And it had been a great one.

It was time for the story of Sherlock Holmes to end as well..

Mycroft regretted not going after John. He regretted it all. There was no turning back. He went slowly to the empty lot, and saw Sherlock above sitting next to John's body. Sherlock, turned to look at Mycroft, eyes filled with tears as he raised a gun to his head.

"No, Sherlock please!" Mycroft shouted.

"I can't leave John waiting..Goodbye Mycroft." Sherlock turned back, and, looking down at John, whispered "I'm coming. I'm coming now."

The gun was fired, and Sherlock crumpled onto the ground, hand clasping John's.


End file.
